Well, Ruthie and I were carousing about the campaign trail stops all around the District of Columbia, guffawing at the ludicrous posters and poses taken by Jimmy Blaine when we came across a bar a few blocks away from the House of Congress.

So we get to conversation and suddenly he leans over and plants a wet smacker upon my face. In my surprise, I raped the would-be president directly upon the floor. The barkeep jauntily remarked that this was not, in fact, the first time that such an event had taken place in his establishment.

Having finished thoroughly coating the room with various bodily fluids, I became appalled at the scene as the other patrons were simply enjoying their drinks and banter despite my raucous rabble-rousing.